


October 19th

by VigilantePond



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VigilantePond/pseuds/VigilantePond
Summary: Ethan plans a birthday surprise for Ilsa, but things don't go as planned... or does it work out in the end?





	October 19th

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to Rebecca Ferguson AND Ilsa Faust (it says on her ID) ! A quick little something I whipped up.

October 19th. 

Ilsa was never big on birthdays, especially not her own. Half the time she was on a task and she simply forgot; she was three thousand feet above ground in the Rocky Mountains on her 27th birthday, and for her 30th birthday she was undercover in Siberia tracking a drug cartel. In fact, she only remembered today because the TSA agent checking her passport wished her a happy birthday. 

Ilsa flew in from London to LA to meet up with the IMF for a little vacation after she finally cut her ties with British Intelligence. She let out an audible yawn as she dragged her luggage off the carousel. There were surges of people everywhere in the airport, it was a place of such intense human emotion. In one corner, people were chattering with excitement as they embark on an adventure, and in the next, people were reluctantly hugging their loved ones goodbye. Ilsa’s eyes darted back and forth at each face, observing their every motion and eavesdropping in every conversation. She was used to being hyperaware at all times, especially during airports where she was often sent on missions. For once, she didn’t have to. This was supposed to be her and the IMF’s time to finally relax and live a mundane life while they could enjoy it. She caught herself speed walking again, and slowed her legs down to a sluggish gait, like the vacationer she was supposed to be. She reached for her phone, but she remembered that Ethan and the IMF would fly in tomorrow instead since they had some business to deal with in Germany first. _Oh well, it’s not like they knew it was my birthday_.

She got in a small yellow taxi, and gave the driver the address of the place they rented out. Ilsa sank into her seat comfortably and gazed out the window in a dreamlike haze as she watched the neat arrays of palm trees whiz past her, and the endless rows of colourful traffic ahead of her. _This was going to take a while,_ she thought, but she decided to make the most of it, because for once, she wasn’t in some getaway car or speeding on a motorcycle.

——————————————————————————————————————————

“This traffic is terrible! Why did we choose LA? Why couldn’t we go somewhere that _wasn’t_ so busy all the time?” Benji complained. 

Ethan, Benji, and Luther were sitting in a rusty BMW that they had rented, Ethan driving and Benji in shotgun of course. 

“Don’t look at me, it was his idea,” Luther interjected, jabbing his thumb at Ethan. 

Ethan stuttered, “Well, I just thought it would be a nice relaxing place for us to take a break, you know? Sunshine, beaches, and all that? Plus Ilsa mentioned that she’d never been.” 

They told Ilsa that they had to run some errands in Germany before flying in, but the truth was they had planned to throw her a surprise party. However, this traffic was about to ruin all of their plans. 

The scorching Los Angeles sunshine was overhead, and soon sweat began to trickle down their necks and stick to their backs. Ethan flicked his wrist and checked his watch again; Ilsa’s flight should have just landed, and they still haven’t reached the beach house yet. They were running out of time. 

“Ethan, I don’t think we’re going to have enough ti-,” Benji began. 

Just then, they heard a thunderous roar and a gang of Hell’s Angel-like motorcycles pulled up behind them. There was a group of brawny men with bushy white beards and black leather jackets on the bikes, looking annoyed. 

“Wait, I have an idea,” Ethan said. 

Luther groaned to himself, “Oh boy.” 

Much to Beni’s dismay, Ethan got out of the car and strut up to the gang. Before they could register what was happening, Ethan threw a punch at one of them, and threw his body over the whole row, knocking out 5 of them simultaneously. 

“I’ll meet you guys there!” Ethan yelled at Benji and Luther.

Ethan grabbed a motorcycle and they followed suite, as he had done before many many times. He started weaving through the traffic at high speed on the bridge, ignoring the old men’s grunts of protest behind them. 

“Was this really necessary?” Benji cried from behind, but Ethan was too far down the road to hear. 

“Typical Ethan,” Luther chuckled, “Can’t keep himself out of action.” 

——————————————————————————————————————

Ilsa’s taxi finally swerved its way out of traffic to the beach house; she thanked the driver and watched it drive off. Then, she froze for a moment and took in the golden sand, the gently lapsing cerulean waves sparkling, and the squawking seagulls perched on a picnic table. She’d always dreamed about relaxing on a nice peaceful beach like this one, but when she was always on a task, there was simply no time for this. Until now. She walked up to a tall, pristine white beach house with tall glass windows and a grandiose balcony with a clear view of the ocean. She pictured herself draped across a lawnchair, enjoying a mimosa as the sun set in splashes of purple and orange and smiled to herself, lost in a Californian daydream. 

——————————————————————————————————————-

Once Ethan neared the beach, he shoved the motorcycle aside and sprinted to the house they rented. Perspiration pooled in his armpits and plastered all over his body, but he wiped his forehead hastily.He was out of breath and his arms were shaking as he scrambled to unlock the door, hoping he wasn’t too late. 

———————————————————————————————————————-

As she was examining the wine cabinet, Ilsa heard a rattle at the door. Her spy instincts kicked in, and she reached for a non-existent gun in her back pocket. _Shit,_ she muttered. Instead, she found a knife in the kitchen drawer and approached the door slowly, preparing to attack the intruder. She hid in a stealthy posture with her back against the wall, and she heard the door creak open, and a voice panting heavily. Ilsa dashed out with the knife in her hand, preparing to climb on top of the figure and crush them with her thighs. 

“Ilsa!” the intruder shouted. 

She froze and dropped the knife immediately, recognizing the voice. 

“Ethan?” 

He turned around, his face beet red and moist. “Ilsa.” 

“Oh my god, I was about to attack you. What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to come tomorrow.” 

She walked him over to the dining chairs, and poured him a glass of water. 

“Ilsa, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. 

“For what?” 

“I, we.. were going to throw you a surprise birthday party here, but the traffic.. and I.. I stole a motorcycle and tried to get here before you did, but then there was the school bus, and I almost had to scale a building but I didn’t have to and then eventually I got here but.. I’m too late. I’m sorry Ilsa, I ruined your birthday. Oh, happy birthday. Yeah,” he blurted out. 

Ilsa was silent for a moment, studying Ethan’s frustration. He clearly cared very much. Nobody else had ever _tried_ to do this much for Ilsa, on her birthday or any other day. A smile spread across her face, and she took his flustered cheeks in her palms. Then, she leaned in and did something that they both had wanted to do for years. She placed her lips onto his; it was soft but passionate enough, and simple enough to convey what she wanted to. Ilsa didn’t care that he smelled like wet dog right now, she was bursting with euphoria inside. 

When she pulled away, Ethan’s eyes were wide, and it was as if his surprise party backfired and _he_ was the one being surprised. 

“Don’t be silly you didn’t ruin it. I didn’t expect any of this at all, and I’m touched that you even thought about it. You know what, this is the best birthday _ever_. Thank you,” she smiled. 

Ethan beamed in response. “It’s not too late for a non-surprise party, then?” 

Ilsa laughed, “Of course not.” 

She looked out the glass windows again, and the smile wouldn’t leave her face. As she pranced around the kitchen helping Ethan prepare, her feet felt like she was drifting on a cloud. _Happy birthday to me,_ she thought. 

End.


End file.
